


What Would Fear Wish For?

by sp8ce



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Coda, Episode Fix-It: s15e20 Carry On, Fix-It, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Second Person, Post-Canon, Suicidal Dean Winchester, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:47:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27757132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp8ce/pseuds/sp8ce
Summary: If Heaven flickers, is something going on? If everything seems too surreal, why would you refuse to question it. You guess it's different this time. You think you are destroyed.(What does it mean for Dean Winchester not to fight for real life, living on Earth, after all these years?)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 53





	What Would Fear Wish For?

Heaven flickers.

The days have dragged like a stupor, like you’re lost in a summer dream of soft wind blowing and rock music. You think if you look too far to the left, something will shatter. You know it’s not who you are to ignore it, but you refuse to dare a glance.

Sam shows up, just like you were expecting. Just like you were told he would. And Heaven flickers.

One second he’s saying hello, and it’s how you’d expect to meet a loved one in the afterlife, and you think he’s screaming your name. But you look at him again, and there’s a mirage. Like you’re tipsy, like the world is filtered silken. You feel so comfortable; it’s jarring. Like you’re being doused in ice, and it crashes through your veins. But then you look again, and you’re confused. It’s just Sam. Everything’s okay. Yes he’s dead, but he got to live a life. You think you saw some of it. He had a wife, a house, a kid he named after you. Right?

And you could watch him. Isn’t that just what you always wanted? You didn’t even have to hold him back. You were just dead. Driving. Waiting. Everything feels mossy, velvet. You’ve never felt so warm without feeling hot. Sam smiles, and boy, did you miss that smile. But it morphs. Heaven flickers. And he looks terrified.

“ _ Dean! _ ” Sam’s voice reverberates. It’s glacial. Gelid. You’re overcome with adrenaline. Like some part of your brain is supposed to be  _ on _ . But you forget to turn it on because there’s nothing to fear here. You’re at peace. Why does Sam want to take you away from being at peace?

You feel hands, on your face, and it’s confusing because Sam’s hands are in his pockets. The world is filtered yellow, bright, satiny, not sharp. You don’t want this. You don’t want the pain and the harshness and the cold. Why must Heaven flicker?

Sam’s screaming again, gut-wrenching, and the norepinefrin floods. Wasn’t he okay? Didn’t he finally have the life he wanted? But he sounds terrified. He sounds like he needs you, and there’s nothing that could possibly stop you from being there for him when he needs you.  _ You have to protect him. You have to. _

Everything vanishes, like a mirage, turns astringent, tastes stale, grim, the thoughts in your brain now cacophonous. You don’t want this. Whatever’s happening. Wherever you’re going, there’s something missing. You want the stupor. You want a puppet show. You want peace. Why can’t you ever have peace?

You want to live in the Heaven he built. Is that not too much to ask?

But Sam sounds terrified, he’s repeating your name, and you can hear in now, through your ears. It drags you, raucous, drags you, sickening, panic deep in your chest. You peel your eyes open to see Sam, tears down his face, a mess. It takes all your will to keep your eyes open.

“Dean, oh my God, Dean, you’re okay, you’re going to make it,” Sam says, and it sounds like he’s telling himself that. “Why wouldn’t you  _ wake up _ ?”

You’ve definitely had better days, you think. Is this some version of Heaven? Why is Sam crying when he’s at peace? Why does everything feel  _ real  _ again? 

“What’s...” you try, but you end up coughing a bit. “Is this your Heaven?”

“No, no, Dean it was a Djinn, you’ve been asleep, the mime, what we were hunting, you’re going to be okay,” Sam says, like he’s reciting some sort of prayer. Funny, considering.

“No, no, a vamp killed me,” you say, struggling to sit up. Why are you so drained in Heaven?

“What? No, Dean, you were abducted by a Djinn,” Sam says. “I got to you eventually, but it seems you were out a few hours. We’re back at the Bunker now.”

“What?” you say. Sam’s starting to look really worried.

“You wouldn’t wake up.”

“Sam, I’m dead. Wait.”  _ Fuck _ . “You didn’t make a deal right?” You’re in upright position immediately, and blackness tingles and dances in your head. 

“No, Dean, listen, you didn’t die. In fact--”

“Why would a Djinn make me believe I was dead?” you ask.

“I’m not sure. This Djinn definitely was wish-granting for the other two people that were still alive.” You’re not going to examine that. You’ve been smothered in cold water, and you guess that’s what you need to accept. It’s weird, after all these years of fighting for something real, how finally you chose to stay deluded if it meant peace. The thought frightens you. Something has damaged you beyond what you ever thought was possible.

“You ganked the thing right?”

“Yeah, and Dean, I have to tell you something--”

“Sam, something isn’t right,” you say. “I need to, I need to  _ go _ . You need to live a life,” you say. “I’m dead.”

“Dean, I don’t know what you’re on about. We’re both alive. You’re safe. And in fact--”

“I can’t live like this anymore,” you admit. It scares you. How deeply you wished to be dead. How deeply you still do. It’s not something you’re unfamiliar with, except now there’s a gut certainty. But Sam looks terrified. “We need to stop hunting.”

“Okay,” Sam says, he sounds confused, concedes, like you aren’t asking him to change everything about your life. “Dean, are you alright?”

“You know, there’s a million things I could have wished for. A million things that could make sense,” you say. Sam’s face is still all twitchy, and he narrows his eyes, like he’s confused, like you’re still scaring him even though you’re sitting here talking. 

“Well, I mean I assumed, Cas,” Sam says. It shoots something poisonous in your veins. You’re not sure you can say something to that. You just shake your head. It does nothing to alleviate the confusion on Sam’s face.  _ Yeah, _ you think.  _ Yeah, you’d think I’d just wish for him alive again _ .

“I didn’t even see him,” you say, and you hear something move in your periphery, and you reach for a weapon, but Sam puts his hand on your wrist.

“Dean, you’re safe,” he says. He sounds kind of sad. 

“We got to stop hunting,” you repeat. “Sam,” you say, and you’re looking at him again. He’s not crying anymore, but it’s clear he has been. “You need to live a life, find some girl, settle down, we’re free now. What we’re doing... it’s because we know nothing else.”  _ Actually, maybe it’s a means to an end _ . _ An end that’s perhaps scarier than driving the impala in Heaven _ .

You don’t actually want to go back to Hell. 

“Okay, Dean, sure, but I do have news.”

“What?”

“Cas is back,” Sam says. He states it like it’s so simple. Like the small delightful smile on his face measures up for the incongruence he speaks.

“No, Cas is...” You feel the syrupy filter of Heaven clog your vision. “I was dead for a really long time. I never even saw him.” Sam’s smile turns to his look of concern. You’re getting a bit frustrated with this. You want a beer. You try to stand up, off your bed, but you immediately get so dizzy.

“Woah.. maybe rest a bit? The Djinn had you for quite a while.”

“I’m starving,” you say.

“Yeah, we can get you something to eat. But Dean, I gotta ask, what did you wish for? You’re starting to scare me.”  _ Starting to, huh _ .

“Yeah, yeah.” Your head is spinning. “Wait Cas?”

“I was, um, wondering when you’d realise that.”

“What? He doesn’t want to heal me anymore?” Sam motions to his phone. Texts someone. Cas enters the room. As if he wasn’t dead. As if he didn’t disappear after. After.

He looks the exact same as he always does, except a layer more pristine. You guess he just looks really  _ good _ . He comes in, touches your forehead, and suddenly a layer of fog and fatigue lifts immediately, and you’re left reeling. He then moves to leave the room.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” you accuse, his back to you, ready out the door. Sam clears his throat.

“Should I leave you two be?” he asks. You glare at him. He puts his hands up in fake surrender, then makes to leave the room, sliding around Cas who stands frozen a few feet in front of the doorway.

You’re in shock you don’t know how to process.  _ You were dead for years _ . Is this real Heaven? Did you have to wait for Sammy to arrive to get what you wanted? Is this even real? Would Cas in your imagination always be leaving you too?

“I healed you,” Cas says.

“Yeah, I got that,” you respond. He still hasn’t turned to face you. “What? You can’t even look at me?” Cas finally turns to look at you, but he doesn’t meet your gaze, chooses instead to look at the floor by your feet.

“You wanted me to heal you. I did. I would’ve woken you sooner, but I got here not that long ago after Sam’s prayers, and you were already starting to wake up. You should be okay now.” Cas says.

“Cas, what the fuck?” You have no clue how to respond to that. But you’re also terrified he’s going to disappear any second, and you’ll never see him again. Like he didn’t strip you bare of every defense you ever had. As if you’ve never been more vulnerable. “You were dead.”

“Yes. And I’ve been dead before,” he states. “I did assume I’d stay dead this time,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.  _ Or an excuse. _

“How long have you been alive?”

“I did not know you were in danger until Sam started praying.” 

“That is not an answer.” A pause.

“Jack brought me back as soon as he was capable of doing so,” Cas says, before adding, almost bitterly. “He seemed to think it was a priority.” Anger rushes through you fast, spikes, furious. Lances through you. _ It hurts. _ It hurts so fucking badly. You’re pretty sure you’ve pierced skin with your nails into your palms. You walk over to Cas, still staring adamantly at the ground, and push his chin up to make him actually  _ look at you _ . You see his body tense, at your touch, but he pointedly does not pull away, following your guidance, shock anxious like you could hurt him. As if he didn’t obliterate you.

“You destroyed me,” you say. His face changes, from guarded intensity to shock, his mouth opens a bit, like he’s confused, still hurt, but unsure. You drop your hand from beneath his chin, but he’s still staring at you, a couple inches away, in a state of perplexity, like he can’t see the betrayal of abandoning you after making it clear he knows everything about you. As if he didn’t make you feel.  _ Loved _ .

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says after a moment, as if searching for what he could’ve possibly done.

“Uncomfortable?” 

“I am aware you do not return my sentiments,” he says, at first tersely, but ending the sentence relaxed. His eyes are already averting from yours. It’s infuriating. 

“What? You made me  _ mourn you _ . You  _ died because of me _ then  _ came back and left me all alone anyways _ ,” you exclaim. You feel your hands shake a bit. He looks at you again, straight in your eyes, but now it just makes you feel naked. You shouldn’t have opened up this door. Something about his honesty the last time you saw him has made it feel harder to keep things in. Or maybe it was being trapped in a world where you were constantly searching, incapable of finding what you truly wanted, because you were too terrified to wish for anything but death.

You don’t want this. You don’t want to lose him again. You’re not going to survive it.

“I didn’t realise you cared,” Cas says, and it’s honest, shocking, confusing. 

“Of course I care!” It’s louder than you mean it to be, given the proximity between the two of you.

“But you just said, you didn’t wish for my return,” Cas says, and it’s fragile, and open, baffled. He’s in turmoil.  _ He really thinks you wouldn’t care _ .

“How could you think that?”

“Well...” he starts, and God, he’s going to actually answer you. It was rhetorical. “I came, when Sam - you - needed me. But you didn’t seem sad, or to want me there before - I did check - I figured, based on what I said the last time we spoke, that you did not want to see me again. And you just said. That in your dream world. I was not there,” he says, like he’s confused, so sure, that you don’t give a rat’s ass about if he’s even okay. Something in you snaps. Like the fact you didn’t wish for the Djinn to resurrect him, like this creature who can read your psyche without a choice on your end, who trapped you in some Heaven-Hell for years, means you don’t want him.

“Yeah, I was too busy wishing to be  _ dead _ ,” you spit. It didn’t really hit you until the words were out of your mouth. The cognizance is scary. But not as scary as the abject horror on Cas’s face.

“Dean...”

“And I don’t even know what you  _ mean _ ,” you complain, and perhaps now you’re becoming petulant. “What feelings could I  _ possibly _ not return.”

There’s something in you that dares to  _ hope _ , that dares to push the rage and the heartache all aside, and just close this distance between the two of you. Finally learn after all these years what it would feel like. You’ve imagined it so many times, you’re pretty sure it’s impossible. Like you’re magnets being pushed apart, even as you’re pulled together. It’s terrifying. Everything about this is terrifying. But you don’t miss your peace. You understand now, what that was. You understand the necessity. You understand why you couldn’t escape.

“I love you,” Cas says. You knew you heard that. Your gaze finally drops from his, hearing it again. You force yourself to look back at him, wait for him to look at you.

“Yeah, same,” you say. It’s mumbled, and yeah, you can make your gaze intense, but words sometimes feel hard. Especially after you’ve already laid yourself bare again and again to him today. He knows. He knows he destroyed you. He knows all he has to do is disappear, and yeah, it’s not  _ dying _ , it’s not guilt, it’s not nothingness, it’s not  _ grief _ , but it would still destroy you in some way again. In a way, you think, you’ve never truly experienced.

“Romantically,” Cas adds, and he sounds like it may as well be a death sentence. The tension snaps. It’s been so many years, so thick, so heavy in between you, like all you could ever want is a foot away, but now the hope crashes like a wave against the shore, lit by morning sunlight,  _ and you don’t think _ . All you do is close the space between the two of you and kiss him, chaste, quick, pulling away, like it’s too much. Like maybe you’ve still got something wrong in this whole mess, until you see the smile on Cas’s face. It’s unlike anything you’ve seen before. You want to make him smile like that for the rest of your life. It’s overwhelming, really. You don’t think you even want to kiss him again, because it’s so overwhelming, even though you’ve never had an issue immediately getting intimate with someone. But you kiss him again, chaste, just to prove to your mind you  _ can _ . 

“Didn’t think you could want this,” you admit, and you want to go further. You want to fiercely make out with him, devour him, make him feel, feel  _ everything _ . You want to make him come and scream your name, but you push the thoughts away, easily, like it’s what you’ve known how to do for years. You’re too frazzled. You’re still so angry, confused. Your brain has not had a chance to catch up on  _ any  _ of this. He was  _ dead _ . And you just  _ kissed him _ .

“I didn’t think you would,” Cas says, and there’s wonder in his voice. It’s so soft. 

“You can’t...” you start. You think you need to find these words. That they actually must be spoken. More than anything he’s even said to you. You think if you don’t voice this, then it’ll end with you being eradicated. And you think you have, tried, many times, to tell him this, over the years.  _ I need you. I’m not leaving here without you _ . “You can’t mean this much to me then disappear.”

“There’s no deal this time,” Cas says. “Jack restored me to full power, I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.”

“This is a lot, y’know?”

“Yes.”

“You were dead, and then  _ I  _ was dead, and now...” You guess you’re a little flabbergasted. But Cas tentatively reaches for your hand, still tight in a fist, and you relax it immediately, shocked by how much calmer him taking your hand makes you feel. It’s different, than anything you remember in a very long time, in terms of physical intimacy. You’re not sure if that’s because he’s an angel or because you’re in love.

“I know,” he says.

“Don’t know what you could see in a guy like me, like, standards,” you try to joke, fear tugging at you, the shift you never expected sticking in your throat like a bee hive.

“I feel like I’ve made my view abundantly clear,” Cas says. You laugh a little.

“I suppose you have,” you agree.

“Dean, with the Djinn--” Cas starts, but you can’t go there now. You can’t think about that.

“Don’t, okay? Just. Don’t.” You don’t know how to tell him how scary it was, to actually think you were dead like that, to let it happen.

“Okay,” Cas says, then adds, shyly, and it’s the fucking cutest thing you’ve ever seen, Cas acting shy over you, “Can I kiss you again?”

“Yeah, Cas,” you say, smiling, still a little lost. You want to add,  _ please _ ,  _ just don’t ever stop. _

It’s funny, you think. How he is better than what you were capable of wishing for. You think it feels like hope.

**Author's Note:**

> writing in second tense is a sexy trait I have but where it started is cursed. shall not elaborate.
> 
> ANYWAYS! YES !! I AM WRITING /ANOTHER/ FIX IT! Rewatching Supernatural and knowing how it ends is sending rage into me that I must channel through explaining how bad it is through various text posts on tumblr and through fanfic. I spend my time wisely.
> 
> Please let me know if you liked it!! <3<3


End file.
